


Beach Life-In-Death

by notmuchfun



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Referenced Azula - Freeform, Referenced Ozai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22387516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmuchfun/pseuds/notmuchfun
Summary: Zukka Week 2020 Day 3: Pain/HealingZuko has a panic attack because of his fucked up family, and Sokka comforts him.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 371





	Beach Life-In-Death

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after having a panic attack due to frustrations with my own family, and realised it suits Zukka week pretty well.  
> It's not edited and I finished it in like 20 minutes, but nonetheless, enjoy :)
> 
> (I took the title and that one lyrical line from Car Seat Headrest's Beach Life-In-Death. Listen to them if you're ever struggling, they're the best breakdown music ever.)

Zuko can’t breathe. It’s one of those nights. A night when Azula calls and he realises how fucked his family is and how much he wishes he could just leave the country, the planet, the universe to get away from them. He just wants to get away from them.

She had berated him as usual, taunted him with the classic, self-hatred inducing comments about his relationship with his father. His fucking father.

He shudders and a wave of panic runs through his body. He can’t breathe. The air enters his mouth, sucked in by his panicked breathing but doesn’t get anywhere. It seems to skim the tops of his lungs without making an impact on his body. He feels light-headed. Rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling, he recognises how fucked up this situation is. He doesn’t deserve this.

_But you do,_ a voice whispers. His breathing gets worse.

He registers dimly that his face is soaked with tears, his nose snotty and gross. God. His grip on his phone tightens, and he turns Car Seat Headrest louder, closing his eyes.

_“I am almost completely soulless. I am incapable of being human. I am incapable of being inhuman. I am living uncontrollably.”_

A hand touches his shoulder and he nearly jumps out of his skin, breath and heart still racing. It’s Sokka. Fuck. He’d forgotten Sokka was supposed to come over today. He doesn’t want Sokka seeing him like this. How did he even get in here?

He summons the strength to pull his headphones out, the music becoming a soft tinny background noise.

“Are you okay?” Sokka looks concerned. Fuck. It’s not a good look on him, not one that Zuko ever wants to cause. His eyebrows are furrowed, his lips are tense, and his eyes look so sad and worried. It makes Zuko’s heart clench.

He wants to reply. He really does. But when he opens his mouth nothing comes out but a muffled sob. He can’t fucking breathe.

Sokka nods, understanding as always, sitting lightly on the bed next to Zuko, “That’s okay Zuko. That’s absolutely okay.” There’s a beat where the only sound is Zuko, sobbing and hiccuping. Then Sokka says, “Hey, do you think you can try to make your breathing more steady? Nothing too hectic, just take longer breaths. Try to keep them a similar pace to each other.”

Zuko focuses his eyes on a spot just past Sokka’s head, a chip in the paint of his wall. He tries to take a slightly deeper breath than the last one. Then another one. He tries.

“That’s it. You’re doing really well, Zuko.”

He keeps focusing on his breathing. He’s not sure how long it takes until his breathing is nearly stable. It’s still hitched, and it’s so hard to take such deep breathes, but Sokka’s soft encouragement and presence makes it all worth it.

Sokka looks at him and smiles, “Look at that. You calmed yourself down pretty quickly. Well done.”

Zuko studies his face. A voice in his head is telling him that Sokka is just saying that to make him feel better, he doesn’t really mean it. But he tries to focus his thoughts on Sokka’s face - his pretty blue eyes and chiseled jaw, rather than that stupid voice.

“Thanks.” He manages to breathe out, his voice sounding thoroughly fucked and cried-out.

“Hold on just one second,” Sokka says, getting up and leaving the room. Zuko can’t bring himself to wonder what Sokka is doing, closing his eyes and keeping his thoughts on his breathing. God. He is so tired.

When Sokka comes back, he’s holding a glass of water and a roll of toilet paper, “I figured you probably want to blow your nose and rehydrate. You lost a lot of liquid there, buddy.” He smiles crookedly.

The edges of Zuko’s mouth twitch ever so slightly. His face feels like metal - smiling is a bit much for right now.

Sitting up a little, he blows his nose (So gross. Why are panic attacks so gross?) and sucks the water down in one gulp.

“Thank you.” He says softly, not meeting Sokka’s eyes, “Sorry you had to see that.”

Sokka settles himself onto the bed next to Zuko, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “Don’t be sorry, Zuko. Do you want to talk about it?”

Zuko’s head falls naturally into the crook in Sokka’s shoulder, “Not really. Just classic Azula and Ozai stuff. You know.”

Sokka nods sagely, “They fucking suck, dude. I’m glad you’re doing better now.” He presses the softest of kisses to the top of Zuko’s head, and he melts just like that.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all liked it.  
> Hit up my tumblr for occasional Zukka-themed content: @terminaltofudisease


End file.
